Can you see the woman in the window?
She basks in the glow of the moment,
donning a princess pink gown
with a train of angel white.
Nervous tears of joy
stream down her vibrant face
streaking her blushing cheeks
a pallad hue of shadow blue.
Can you see the woman in the window?
She bathes in the light of renewed hope
dressed in a large billowing top
with teddy bears adorning the front.
The sudden thrust of an innocent kick
forces her to clutch her swollen belly
and a tender smile fades to a wince
as motherhood pains begin to quicken.
Can you see the woman in the window?
She soaks in the brutality of the moment
clothed in a torn cotton gown
with crimson streaks down the front.
Like a doll thrown to the floor,
she lay broken against the window
her head twisted slightly askew
with finger bruises around her neck.
Her battered terror ravaged face
pressed against a cracked window pain,
like some macabre masterpiece.
Two crystal blue eyes frozen in fear
now free from the hands of oppression
surrender a horrible unspoken truth.
Huddled next to the cold lifeless body,
a tiny teary-eyed little girl
clutches a frail banded hand
and loudly whimpers the words:
Mommy! Please wake up!
Have you seen a woman in the window?
Will she be there tomorrow…?
kimmorrisonblog 